


A Modest Proposal

by carpfish



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: A3! Rarepairs Week 2020, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25286251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/pseuds/carpfish
Summary: Mister "404: Emotion Not Found" proposes to Mister "I'll Bury My Feelings Along With Your Body". It goes about as well as you'd expect.Written for A3! Rarepairs Week 2020, Day 2 theme:Sleepover/Long-Distance.
Relationships: Guy/Utsuki Chikage
Comments: 19
Kudos: 58
Collections: A3! Rare Pairs Week 2020





	A Modest Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place several years into the future, after Guy and Chikage have been having a thing for a while. Spoilers for Act 5 and Act 8 of the main story. Enjoy!

They had made sure to choose a hotel with decent soundproofing, so once all is said and done, the silence is almost deafening. Chikage hears nothing but the hum of the air conditioning and Guy’s steady, measured breathing coming from next to him. A stark contrast to the frantic creak of bedposts, wet slap of skin against skin, and breathy, stifled moans that had filled the room just minutes ago. Chikage shifts in the slightly-too-narrow double bed and relishes the delicious soreness in his lower body. Sex with Guy is always good, but it’s been a while, and this time was fantastic. 

The room isn’t large by any means, with barely five steps between the doorway and the bed, but between the bed, the thickly-curtained windows on the far wall, and the plush carpeted floor, it had been more than enough for their intents and purposes. Soon, they’ll have to get out of bed and commence with the messy but not unpleasant business of cleaning up, taking showers, rifling through the sheets for any used condoms they forgot to dispose of properly in the heat of things. But for now, they take a moment to bask in the afterglow and catch their breath, tangled in the sheets next to one another, but alone in their own thoughts. It’s an unspoken part of their routine that Chikage has come to appreciate almost as much as what comes before, if only for what it says about how well they understand one another. Even after recovering his emotions and humanity with Mankai, Guy sometimes needs to step back and reflect on them in order to process what he’s feeling. As for Chikage, it’s a good opportunity to recover the walls that Guy tears down during sex. God forbid he show any scrap of vulnerability once the clothes are back on. 

This time though, Guy seems more contemplative than usual, and Chikage can feel the weight of the other man’s gaze on him even without looking. He turns to listen to what Guy has to say, but the words never come, although his eyes remain fixed on Chikage. Guy looks deep in thought, but also faintly amused, looking at and through Chikage as if he were made of fogged up glass, with the answer to some question written on the other side. As someone who spends a lot of time secretly observing those around him, it’s uncomfortable to be scrutinized so openly in return. And it isn’t like Guy to be so reticent, so after about a minute of mutual staring, Chikage’s curiosity gets the better of him. Not a risk he’d usually take, if this were any sort of mission, but the complete lack of stakes when it comes to Guy puts him at an abnormal level of ease. 

“Something on your mind?” Chikage asks, as casually as he can. 

Guy presses his lips together thoughtfully, as if deciding whether to answer or not, before finally replying, his voice as placid and light as if he were talking about the color of the walls, or about what to eat later. 

“I was thinking of asking you to marry me.”

Wait, what the fuck. 

Chikage’s answer comes instantly, without even needing to think. 

“Sorry, the answer is no.”

No, seriously.

What the fuck.

Externally, Chikage is a perfect picture of composure. Internally, Guy couldn’t have caught him more off guard if he’d pulled a gun and shot him right there. In fact, Chikage’s been in the latter situation enough times that he’d have a better idea of how to respond than to… whatever this is.

There’s no way anyone could possibly mistake Chikage for a romantic, but Guy certainly is one, and he’s fairly sure that this atmosphere is not what most romantics would consider fit for a proposal. Not that his response is any more romantic in turn, but Chikage figured it better to be quick and cruel rather than give even a moment of false hope. But as justified as his staunch and certain refusal had been, it still feels like a hard lump lodged in his throat.

Guy, on the other hand, doesn’t look the slightest bit put out by Chikage’s response - if anything, there’s a smug tilt to his lips, a gleam in his eyes that speaks of satisfaction. 

“Apology accepted,” Guy says, unaffectedly. “I’d expected as much, after all.” 

It’s deeply out of character for Guy to toy with him like this, but perhaps Chikage has been a worse influence than intended. Normally he’d accept karma biting him in the ass like this, but for some reason, Guy had always seemed incorruptable by Chikage’s shittiness. Rather than give that thought any room to breath, Chikage flattens all his uncertainty and rage into a broad, mirthless smile, and rests his cheek on his palm as he raises an eyebrow questioningly. 

“Oh? What makes you say that?” 

“Do you want to hear the real answer, or the answer that spares your feelings about being able to hide your emotions?" 

Chikage has spent his whole life concealing his inner thoughts and intentions from those around him- it’s kind of a crucial skill in his line of work, after all. Most of the time, Guy does him the courtesy of pretending he’s just Citron’s very stern and handsome butler with no counterintelligence training whatsoever. But if years of black ops experience and royal service weren’t enough to lay Chikage's inner workings bare before Guy, then getting literally naked together for years in this regrettably emotionally-involved affair has probably done the trick. Guy's perceptiveness is something that Chikage conveniently tries to forget more often than not. He tells himself that Guy would only ever use this knowledge for good (A lie. It's Guy, but Chikage's still not in the habit of trusting people, ever). Or that if he and Hisoka go missing one day, there'd be at least one person at Mankai who'd be able to find their bodies (Another lie, the Organization would never be careless enough to leave _bodies_ ).

As it stands, whatever insights Guy has about Chikage, they're likely to be right, and very compromising. Not just to Chikage's security as an agent, but also to his pride. 

Unfortunately, that same irrational pride is telling him that there's only one choice that doesn't make him look even more pathetic after turning down Guy's proposal. 

"Give me the real answer. I want to hear it.” Chikage really does not want to hear it.

Guy arches a questioning brow, which speaks volumes on his usually-stoic face. There’s a beat of tense, anticipation-filled silence, then another. Chikage meets his gaze unflinchingly, despite the trepidation that grows within his chest with every silent second that passes. Guy really doesn’t tend to mince words, so if he’s hesitating this long before speaking, it must be bad. 

Finally, Guy opens his mouth to talk, at the exact same moment when Chikage lets out an aggravated sigh of defeat. “Fine. Give me the nice answer.”

When offstage, Guy’s tone of speech is usually a bit flat at the best of times. But he is a capable actor, so when he actually puts an effort into it, he sounds positively _wooden_. “Because you’re young and handsome and far too good for me, Utsuki.” 

Immediately, Chikage can’t hold back the snort of unstifled laughter that bursts from his throat. Really, he should feel insulted at this blatant sass from a man who spent most of his life not even realizing he had emotions, and by all means _should not know how to sass like this._ But that’s precisely why hearing such cutting sarcasm from _Guy_ of all people is so hilarious that Chikage isn’t even mad. 

Chikage raises his arm and drops it onto Guy’s chest in a half-hearted smack. “Amazing. Who installed you with a sense of humor, android man?” 

Guy holds Chikage’s hand to his chest, keeping it there. “It’s a recent patch. Might still require some debugging.” 

That’s a response that makes Chikage feel like laughing again. Aside from the failed proposal, this post-coital banter is starting to enter the realm of pillow talk, so he needs to put an end to it now. Sucking in a breath, he withdraws his hand from Guy’s hold more slowly than he’d intended to, then sits up and flings his legs over the side of the bed. Time to start picking clothing off the floor at a speed that hopefully comes off as more “refreshed after a good fuck” rather than “running desperately away from any and all feelings”. 

“Well, I guess the real answer is one that would probably take far longer than… how much time do we have left in this room?” 

“39 minutes.” Despite being decidedly human, Guy’s internal clock is still freakishly accurate, with less than a 1.5 minute margin of error even. Yeah, half an hour is barely enough for the both of them to shower, let alone for them to unpack any deep-seated emotional tangles. Unless they shower together. In which case, they’ll _definitely_ end up having to pay for another hour. Not a terrible alternative, except Chikage is strangely not in the mood to go another round in the bathroom, so when Guy plays the gentleman and allows Chikage to shower first, he doesn’t invite Guy in to join him. 

Even after his own shower has ended and Guy’s has started, Chikage still feels inexplicably on edge. It’s surprising that he hasn’t felt on edge all this time- sex is not usually a _relaxing_ act for Chikage, but somehow, with Guy, it turns out to be more often than not. Maybe it’s because Chikage doesn’t feel the need to remain fully alert and on his guard after sleeping with Guy, that he’s picked up such odd habits as this. Chikage doesn’t tend to smoke unless the information-gathering situation calls for it, but he still finds his hands wandering towards the carton of Hope cigarettes tucked away in his jacket pocket. 

Chikage flicks the lid open with his thumb, and slides a cigarette out in the direction of the blue cupid’s bow printed on the box. He carries a lighter with him, but one of the nice things about coming to love hotels is the free matchboxes they provide. It takes Chikage only one try to light a match and he brings the delicate flame to his cigarette. He once heard that cigarettes taste better when lit with matches, not that he can really tell the difference. For someone who’s built up a resistance to all sorts of substances, the actual nicotine doesn’t do much for him, but the ritual of smoking is something that he can appreciate more. Utsuki Chikage is a Japanese businessman, after all. 

The only window in the hotel room that actually opens is a tiny one in the corner, and Chikage leans against it as he smokes. He takes a heavy drag of his cigarette and feels the smoke filling his lungs, ashy and bitter on his tongue. Exhaling the smoke slowly through pursed lips, he watches the faint white trail as it dissolves in the air without a trace. 

The view isn’t particularly scenic, looking out on the parking lot of a shuttered shopping street, lit only by the glowing signs of the few izakayas and 24-hour chain restaurants still open. In the distance, Chikage can see small squares of light from the windows of residential buildings and homes several blocks away. It’s a bit too far away for him to see, and he honestly can’t imagine what they must look like inside. Even after all these years at Mankai, it’s hard for Chikage to conceive of a home without scattered vials of poisons to step carefully around, or a getaway suitcase perpetually at-the-ready. 

By the time Guy’s finished with his shower, Chikage’s already puffed his way through his second cigarette, holding its smoldering stem between his fingers. Guy raises an eyebrow disapprovingly when he sees, but says nothing. Chikage raises an eyebrow in return. 

“What? I booked a smoking room this time, like you asked.”

“It’s the smoking I take issue with, not the room. Think of your health, Utsuki.” 

That, of all reasons, has Chikage laughing. “Please. We both know that smoking is one of the _least_ dangerous threats to my health.” 

Guy gives a small sigh, and looks at Chikage with an _I didn’t want to do this_ face, before giving a metaphorical kick at the nuts. “Have you considered smoking’s effects on respiration and lung capacity, which are imperative for acting? If your vocal projection or your cardiovascular fitness were to decline in such a way, then it would have detrimental effects on Spring Troupe’s-”

“Alright, alright, fine, you win.” Chikage grouchily puts the cigarette out on the outside ledge. It’s a dirty move, but pulling the Spring Troupe card _works_. “Are you happy now, I-”

“And it tastes bitter when we kiss,” Guy finishes, as if he’d never been interrupted.

The words reach Chikage in slow motion, as if Guy were speaking through a sheet of water, until the sound waves hit and flood him with understanding. It’s embarrassing. It’s even more embarrassing that Guy can just say shit like that. He keeps acting like he hadn’t had his proposal crushed just now, like he doesn’t care about what happened at all. 

Chikage takes a beat too long to respond to Guy, and immediately those warm green eyes fill with damningly knowing concern. It takes Chikage far too long to look away. 

“You’re upset.” The way Guy says it, he sounds more disappointed than accusatory. Disappointed in himself for not being able to understand Chikage’s feelings. That despite all his experience and training and efforts to care, he had failed to notice and decipher even the scripts of basic human emotion that any other person would have been able to pick up on. It’s uncomfortable to see Guy place the blame on his own brokenness when Chikage’s clearly the one fucking up on emotional intelligence here. 

“I’m sorry.” Even though he has nothing to apologise for, Guy is a man who always takes responsibility, even sometimes for things that he shouldn’t. “I was testing a hypothesis, I didn’t think that it would cause you distress.” 

“What was the hypothesis?”

“That you would not be open to the idea of marriage and the commitment that it entails. That you would not trust yourself enough to promise to stay.” And there it is, the real answer that he hadn’t wanted to hear before. 

“Well, if that’s what you were expecting, then I certainly didn’t disappoint.” 

“You did not disappoint at all,” Guy agrees, with none of Chikage’s own self-deprecating acerbicness. “I was actually quite happy to hear your answer, in fact.”

Chikage chances a glance back towards Guy, and realizes that the man isn’t looking at him at all anymore. Guy’s gaze is pointed out the window that Chikage had been smoking from, focused on a point in the distance. He’s not smiling, but the sharp lines of his face, the creases beneath his eyes and the firm set of his mouth, all look less severe in the glow of the moonlight and late night shop signs. There was once a time when Guy would not have been able to recognize the beauty of this view, but right now he looks positively enchanted, as if he’d found everything that he wanted floating in the midnight air. 

“When you rejected me, it showed that you took my proposal seriously. Otherwise, you would have just lied. Why wouldn’t I be happy?” 

It’s only then that Guy turns back to Chikage, looking right at him with that same enchanted, satisfied stare. Chikage cannot help but feel a bit amazed as well, that he’s somehow fallen for a man whose wires are so crossed as to feel so happy about a proposal being rejected. 

Before Chikage can say anything in response, or realize his own thoughts, Guy steps away from the window. “My apologies for cutting our conversation short, Utsuki, but we only have seven and a half minutes before our reservation comes to an end. Unless you wish to incur additional fees, I advise that we leave now.” He picks up his bag and coat, reaching the door of the hotel room in only a few easy strides. There, he waits for Chikage to be ready as well, unexpectantly and patiently. 

“Come, Utsuki. Shall we go check out?” Guy asks, offering out one hand with the other on the doorknob. 

It takes Chikage a moment to comprehend this sudden switch of gears, but when he does, he cracks a thin smile, and gathers his things to meet Guy at the doorway as well. With one hand holding onto his bags, he places the other on Guy’s outstretched palm, taking him by the hand. 

“Sure. Let’s go home together, Guy-san.”

While it’s no proposal, he likes to think that these words can mean just as much someday. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A rather slow-paced, emotionally-constipated piece this time. I wanted to show a more serious, complicated, but still lovely side of Chikaguy here. I'm a bit late for Day 2, but I'm still happy to post this anyways, even if it boils down to "two guys in a room talking" for 2.8k words.
> 
> All my gratitude to Headlong, Lucius, Cyan, and Para, whom I all bothered at various points for help with this. For such a short piece, it sure required a surprising amount of support. Thank you for your help!!


End file.
